Sir, do you want the pheromones? - Chapter 10

Jin Ran was never one to follow rules. Being unconventional was easier for him than coming out of the closet.

 

From the moment Pei Xingyu first met him at sixteen, he knew Jin Ran was a troublemaker, kicking open the door of the Seventh Army’s Operations Department and brazenly sitting on the desk, ignoring his father’s anger.

 

He had always been extremely opposed to the marriage arranged by his father, and five years later, he still harbored the same deep-seated resentment.

 

He felt that both he and Jin Shaoyuan had plotted against him.

 

“Jin Ran, if you’ve never considered staying in the military and only want to get a divorce from me, please just stay in the Ziwei Yuan for three years. If you have even the slightest desire to be a soldier, I hope you don’t ruin yourself out of hatred for me.”

 

Jin Ran frowned slightly, “Stop guessing about my inner thoughts.”

 

Pei Xingyu wasn’t angered by his curse words, maintaining his calm demeanor, “I’m not guessing about your thoughts. You went to military school and graduated with such high marks, not solely out of hatred for your father.”

 

Jin Ran grabbed Pei Xingyu by the neck, choking him to the point of near suffocation, and said viciously, “I warn you not to pry into my thoughts. I went to military school to get a divorce from you. You’d better hurry up and go to the Interstellar Marriage Administration with me to finalize the paperwork, or I’ll kill you.”

 

Pei Xingyu gasped for breath but didn’t struggle, merely gazing faintly at Jin Ran’s silver-gray eyes. Jin Ran, annoyed by his gaze, tightened his grip, “Divorce or not?”

 

Pei Xingyu, struggling to breathe, managed to move his lips silently, “No… divorce.”

 

Jin Ran’s temper flared. He released Pei Xingyu and pushed him, watching him brace himself against the desk, his face turning pale as he coughed violently, reddening his face and moistening the corners of his eyes.

 

The sight of the wet streak at Pei Xingyu’s eye irritated Jin Ran. The trembling eyelashes and the red marks around his eyes were particularly glaring. “I’m about to choke you to death, and you don’t resist. Are you out of your mind? Didn’t you say you’re strong?”

 

Pei Xingyu, catching his breath and looking down in silence, seemed resigned to Jin Ran’s outburst.

 

Jin Ran, suddenly grabbing him and pulling him close, lowered his head. Pei Xingyu quickly turned his head, his hot lips landing on the side of Jin Ran’s neck.

 

Jin Ran, testing him intentionally, realized now that Pei Xingyu wouldn’t dodge a fight but would avoid a kiss.

 

The skin under his lips was delicate and soft, with a faint, ethereal orchid scent, as if he could feel the gentle pulse beneath it.

 

Unable to resist, Jin Ran bit into the side of Pei Xingyu’s neck with his canine teeth, forcing Pei Xingyu to frown and grab his wrist, throwing him over his shoulder.

 

“Do you want to be beaten? It’s done. Get out.”

 

Jin Ran, seething with anger, got up, toppled the crystal chair, and sent the plate of pea cake crashing to the ground, scattering crumbs everywhere.

 

Pei Xingyu took a moment to catch his breath, poured a glass of water to soothe his sore throat, and touched the stinging side of his neck.

 

Du Yuan, finally able to act as a cleaning robot, buzzed with excitement as it cleaned up the crumbs from the floor.

 

Pei Xingyu, unable to watch any longer, frowned and said, “Du Yuan, just clean it up. No need to lick so many times. You’re a robot, not a mop.”

 

Du Yuan, feeling wronged, buzzed, “Yes, Commander.”

 

Pei Xingyu glanced at it and instructed it to be on guard before heading into the ecological chamber for a short rest.

 

—

 

Song Sishen, the quiet child who spent most of his time sleeping or training, was highly regarded by Pei Xingyu. Jin Ran found him somewhat unsettling to observe.

 

Jin Ran handed him the remaining piece of rose cake from his pocket, “Here, a treat from your brother.”

 

Song Sishen didn’t take it. Accustomed to isolation and unable to accept others’ goodwill, he turned his head stiffly and said, “I said I don’t like these girly treats.”

 

“Hmph, little brat.” Jin Ran placed it forcefully in his hand, “Eat it or I’ll beat you.”

 

Song Sishen pursed his lips, took the cake, and ate it bite by bite. Jin Ran smiled, “Since you ate my cake, help me with something?”

 

“?”

 

Jin Ran asked, “Don’t you think Pei Xingyu and I are a bad match? We should get a divorce soon?”

 

Song Sishen pondered for a moment and said, “Yes.”

 

“Oh, you think we’re mismatched too. Tell me, in what way?”

 

Song Sishen said, “You’re not good enough for Pei Xingyu.”

 

Jin Ran frowned, “Nonsense. What makes me not good enough for him? I’m tall, handsome, and graduated first in my class. Tell me what I lack.”

 

Song Sishen calmly drank his milk, “Pei Xingyu is more handsome, graduated with a 98.5, and is the highest-ranking officer in Ziwei Yuan. You don’t measure up.”

 

“… Damn it.”

 

—

 

On the day of departure, Pei Xingyu didn’t want to make a big fuss. He only used two light frigates, setting out with Zhang Zhou, Jin Ran, and a small squad of guards in a simplified setup.

 

Meng Ruoquan was still away collecting debts from the Interstellar Federation, and Lin Kaisui led a lineup to see Pei Xingyu off.

 

The fleet members, gathered on the deck, were a sea of people. Some were on their respective warships, with the flags flapping and whistling in the night sky, sounding like a myriad of roars.

 

The Ziwei Yuan’s military uniform was different from the dark blue ones issued by the Interstellar Federation. It was black, making the wearer appear tall and straight, blending into the night so perfectly that it was almost invisible.

 

Jin Ran leaned against the railing, observing the sea of soldiers, thinking that only Pei Xingyu, being pale, looked even whiter against the black uniform. His long, black lashes were striking. Whoever designed these uniforms had issues.

 

It wasn’t a beauty contest, so why the narrow waist and long legs? Who was it for?

 

Jin Ran crossed his arms and leaned aside, forming a stark contrast to the upright soldiers. Zhang Zhou quietly reminded him, “Jin Ran, stand up straight. This is a serious send-off ceremony for the commander. You’ll be criticized.”

 

Jin Ran scoffed, “What’s there to send off? It’s not like he’s not coming back. With all this fuss, one might think he’s either getting married or going to his funeral.”

 

Pei Xingyu, standing not far away, slightly furrowed his brows upon hearing this but said nothing. Zhang Zhou, startled, hurried to cover Jin Ran’s mouth, “Don’t say that. The commander will be unhappy, and you might be punished with confinement. Also, your comment was too unlucky. Hurry up and spit.”

 

Jin Ran laughed, “Spit what? You guys are so superstitious…” Before he could finish, a thunderous, synchronized chant echoed through the starry space.

 

“Ziwei Yuan, life and death, united in purpose, never to retreat!”

 

Jin Ran tilted his head, “Look, you’re already starting off with bad omens. The way you all look, it’s like you’re sending the commander off to his death. Hey, who came up with that slogan? It seems like you all have a grudge against Ziwei Yuan.”

 

The commander himself turned around and coldly said, “What, Jin Ran, do you have an issue?”

 

Jin Ran glanced at his lips, feeling the collective gaze of the crowd on him. Although he wanted to embarrass Pei Xingyu at this moment, the restraint on his fingers made him suppress his thoughts, reluctantly raising his hand to salute, “No, Commander!”

 

“If not, then come in.” Pei Xingyu walked ahead, the clink of his military boots echoing on the gangway. Jin Ran followed, his teeth grinding, as he watched Pei Xingyu’s almost disappearing figure merge with the night.

 

This light frigate was not much different from other warships, just with a slightly smaller control panel. The star routes before them glittered. Although Pei Xingyu didn’t need to pilot the ship himself, he still stood next to the control panel.

 

Jin Ran glanced around. Beside Pei Xingyu was a star map resembling a sundial, showing the positions of celestial bodies radiating outward from the sun. The scale was vast, covering hundreds of light-years if measured normally.

 

“Jin Ran.”

 

“What?”

 

“Come over.” Pei Xingyu slightly tilted his head toward him and asked, “Do you understand it?”

 

“Of course,” Jin Ran snorted. “I graduated with a 97.3, you know.”

 

Pei Xingyu responded with a simple “Hmm.” Zhang Zhou, observing Jin Ran’s arrogant attitude, spoke up, “Commander Pei graduated with a 98.5, setting a record that still hasn’t been surpassed. You’re only second.”

 

Jin Ran turned and hissed, “You talk too much.” He then looked back at the star map, “What’s the point of this star map? Planning to abandon your comrades and escape alone?”

 

Pei Xingyu paused, “What did you say?”

 

Jin Ran turned sideways and waved his hand, “Nothing. Don’t call me before we reach the transfer station. I’m going to rest.”

 

Pei Xingyu watched him walk to the ecological cabin, where he lay down with his legs crossed and his hands behind his head as if he were already asleep.

 

“Commander, Jin Ran doesn’t seem to respect you. Are there any past grievances between you two?” Wen Yu, at the helm, asked.

 

“No, he’s young. It’s normal for him to be unruly. He’ll grow out of it,” Pei Xingyu replied, lowering his gaze to the star map, though he could still hear Jin Ran’s barbed remarks.

 

“Planning to abandon your comrades and escape alone?”

 

Everyone accused him of abandoning his comrades and fleeing alone. He was indeed a member of the “Tian Ji” back then. The warship’s backup power key had failed, and although there was enough backup power, it couldn’t be activated.

 

He lost his authority, couldn’t manually control the ship, and the system failed to reboot, leading to a complete shutdown and loss of contact with the ground.

 

Unidentified objects continued to attack the ship, depleting the basic energy and interfering with the space network. They were surrounded and unable to request aid from the Interstellar Federation, like an egg thrown into space, destined to break any second.

 

His last memory was the ship being bombarded repeatedly, causing the control panel to malfunction and the ship to plummet. He had prepared for the ship’s destruction and his own death, but when he woke up again, he was in a military hospital of the Interstellar Federation, with no memory of the explosion of the “Tian Ji.”

 

Pei Xingyu wasn’t sure if he was a “defector.”

 

The Interstellar Federation’s surveillance and the other legions’ rejection didn’t bother him, but he wanted to know the final fate of the “Tian Ji” or the reason for its explosion.

 

An attack wasn’t unusual, and his authority failure, backup power key failure, and communication cut-off must have been deliberate.

 

The Interstellar Federation thought so too, but they suspected him.

 

“Wen Yu,” Pei Xingyu glanced at the night sky and the wall clock, “Speed up the propulsion power to level three.”

 

Wen Yu hesitated and glanced at Jin Ran and Zhang Zhou, “But typically, at level two, ordinary soldiers already experience discomfort. Can they handle it?”

 

Accelerating the ship’s propulsion raises the internal pressure to a level where it feels like all the organs are being squeezed together, even compressing internal organs, limbs, and soul.

 

Simply put, it’s like compressing a soft cake to the pressure of a coin.

 

Pei Xingyu turned back, “Zhang Zhou, Jin Ran.”

 

Zhang Zhou stood up, ready to obey.

 

“Go to your ecological cabins, close the doors, and don’t come out. I’ll call for you when we reach the transfer station,” Pei Xingyu said, then turned to continue speaking with Wen Yu.

 

“Wear your protective suits and be careful.”

 

Wen Yu responded, “Yes, Commander.”

 

Zhang Zhou dutifully entered his ecological cabin and lay down straight, as if quietly settling into the ground. Jin Ran, with a wry smile, sat up slowly, not inclined to settle into the ground like Zhang Zhou.

 

As he stood up from the ecological cabin, the ship suddenly accelerated, and the inertia yanked him backward.

 

“Damn it.” Jin Ran’s head slammed against the wall of the ecological cabin, leaving him dizzy.

 

Pei Xingyu heard the noise, turned around to see Jin Ran, pale and gasping by the door, and frowned slightly as he went over to grab his arm. He felt Jin Ran’s labored breathing, his color changing from pale to bluish, with veins on his forehead bulging.

 

“Are you okay?”

 

Jin Ran had undergone all kinds of stress training in military school, always finishing first, even in the centrifuge training, which was two levels higher than others. But facing the sudden increase in propulsion power, it felt like his heart was about to explode.

 

He couldn’t even speak.

 

Pei Xingyu held his arm and pulled him into the ecological cabin amidst the unstable gravity. Both of them fell inside, and Jin Ran’s head hit Pei Xingyu’s wrist, causing a sharp pain that made him gasp.

 

Jin Ran’s fingertips unconsciously tightened, pressing on Pei Xingyu’s wrist and making it redden. Pei Xingyu tried to get up to close the cabin door and isolate the pressure, but Jin Ran pulled him back.

 

The door closed, and both of them were trapped inside the ecological cabin.